FIVE YEARS HARD

At this moment an officer arrives mounted on a
rather seedy, weedy-looking pony, 'The Adjutant
and S.S.O.,' says Miller, 'hell give you your orders.
Fm for Jebba, I'm ist battalion/

The S.S.O., who wears two stars, thus indicating
he's a captain, looks ill. He, too, is like his 'tat/ a
little on the weedy side. He asks our names and
tells us our fate. Major Dickinson is told he is for
the Jebba battalion while I have to remain at Lokoga
with the second.

We are told to go to the mess, a mile away, where
lunch is ready.

'How do we get there?' asks Binger of the S.S.O.—
an unfortunate remark.

'Can't you walk?' is the stinging reply to poor
Binger.

'Oh, yes, rather/ says Binger, 'only I thought
everyone was carried about in hammocks on the
coast/

'You're not on the coast,' says the S.S.O., 'here
we ride or walk/

We saunter along the dusty road — a mere track —
and pass hundreds of natives resting in the shade of
the mango trees. The sun pours down. We begin
to sweat. When we reach the mess we are as if we
had just come out of a Turkish bath with all our
clothes on.

The Colonel greets us.

38